Category: Long run

It was the Brighton Half Marathon today and I crossed the finish line shortly after the winner had come in at 1.06.59.

Sad to report that I was going the other direction and at a much slower pace.

I had started from Woodingdean, bracing myself against a biting, rain-laden wind.  My hands were frozen within 30 minutes by which time I was running along the top of the cliffs into the wind.

But actually it wasn’t as bad as I had expected, with the force of the wind bouncing up off the cliff and missing me for the most part.

Despite the inclemency I had expected more people to be out, but I had seen only three by the time I reached the marina.  And then I saw where they all were, turning like a giant snake on the Marine Parade below me to head into the wintry wind towards Shoreham.

I ran on, dodging the confused race marshals to reach the Palace Pier at 52 minutes (pretty consistent in this) and then on towards the West Pier.  In this section the front runners started to pass me in the opposite direction and I had counted thirty by the time I reached my one hour turning point at the Peace Memorial.

I headed back along towards the Marina with the faster runners sliding past me with increasing regularity until I reached the Palace Pier again where I took a more direct route to the finish.  A little further on I came to the Martlet Kayak Club where Cliff and Paula were helping with refreshments for the runners.

Once back on the cliff-top I was treated to occasional blasts of wind from behind which carried me forward like an Elite runner, at least for a few paces.  I passed a few more runners along this section, battling against the wind towards me and it seemed to make them more sociable than normal.  As I reached Rottingdean I came upon a wet runner with a bedraggled dog and was delighted when I got closer to realise that it was Jane, complete with her bump.

With the wind behind me I was faster up the Falmer Road (than last week, at least) and I ran past the Downs Hotel and right to the top of the village…

… before dropping back down to the 15 mile (and a smidgeon) finish at 2 hours 13 minutes.  This is 6.77mph, a shade faster than last time I ran this distance two weeks ago, but somewhat slower than the 11.73mph average that the marathon winner managed!

It was back down to my parents house in Woodingdean this morning for another long road run, though there wasn’t as much bounce in my step as last week.

Maybe this had something to do with the weather, which was flat grey and though not quite as cold as last Sunday, still very chilly indeed.  As I ran down the Falmer Road, I was transported back to a very hot and sunny day in the early seventies.

Do you remember those small, dense rubber balls that were popular at the time… the ones that were super-bouncy?  I was walking back to school after going home for lunch and I was about to cross the road by the petrol station when I dropped the ball I was carrying.

I chased it as it rolled down the gutter, but I was not nimble enough.  Every time I got ahead and reached out, it snuck away, eluding my grasp and carried on rolling.  It got all the way down around the corner, virtually a quarter of a mile away, before I finally closed my hand around it.  I might have got it sooner but I was acutely aware of the traffic on the road.

It was the day of the annual School summer gala and all the children had assembled in the playground surrounded by parents, each class ready to perform some musical oddity or other.  Having run down the road and hurriedly staggered back up again I was hot, late and out of breath.  I seem to recall that Mr Matthews substituted the recorder that I had been due to play with by a triangle, much to my chagrin.

Today I stretched out my pace lazily down the hill and on down to Rottingdean, turning right for Brighton.  Although the sky was flat grey, the view out onto the sea was gorgeous, with the sun occasionally breaking through the mat of cloud to bring some welcome contrast.

I ran on and it occurred to me that the myriad runners I passed (mostly going the other way) were a most insular, surly, antisocial bunch.  I make a real point of acknowledging each runner I pass with a smile or a grin, a wave of the hand, or a breathy hey or good morning.  What I got back, in the main, was a blank stare, as if I had just violated some sacred rule forbidding brevity or camaraderie.

Fortunately, enough people reacted positively to my greeting, mostly runners but with the odd carefully-chosen cyclist, walker or older couple, for me to know it was not just because I look like some madman… although I realise that I do!

After many such interactions I reached the Palace pier at 52 minutes and the Peace Memorial, just the other side of what is left of the West Pier, at the one hour mark.  This works out to 7.25 miles.

Here I turned around and started to run back again and it was immediately apparent that those runners who I now passed for the second time were far more inclined to open up and return my smile or wave.

We’re all out there in the fresh air with our distinctive Lycra running gear, pitting ourselves against the landscape, the weather and our goals.  For whatever crazy, personal reason we have, we share the same passion, at least to some measure.  Why can’t we celebrate the pain and the gain by hailing the other runners that we pass… call me old-fashioned, but surely we are far the richer for these tiny nods of socialisation, indicative of a more respectful, cohesive society.

I ran along Madeira Drive and up on to the top again past the Marina, all the while thinking that it was far easier last week when I had Nikki for company.  The view was still great though.

The outside of my right thigh had been painful, to some extent, for most of the run although up until Rottingdean I had been fairly successful in zoning it out.  But the hill that is the Falmer Road brought it right back front of mind.  I ran with the pain however, rather than stopping, knowing that I would only be taking longer to get back.  I was not in the mood to run to the top of the village though, instead running only as far as the Downs Hotel.

Alas, I now realise that this meant that I did not quite reach my goal for the day, instead managing 14.55 miles in 2 hour 11 minutes.  Still not bad though and at an average of 6.7mph, faster than the similar run last Sunday.  Keep this pace up for another 11.65 miles and I can bring the Brighton Marathon in within spitting distance of my goal.

Cliff arrived late this morning with some lame excuse about having had a nose bleed… it looked more like one of the dogs had shoved a toy up his nose to me!  I have a picture if anyone is interested…

So the gang this morning consisted of stalwarts Andy, Nikki, Cliff and myself, plus Jane and a strange man with a headband who who had already run to Falmer from Brighton rather than drive!

For time reasons, we decided to run around one of the shorter circuits, but for a change we went around the other way… I’d say we went backwards, but that gag has already been well overdone.

We ran across the bridge and up towards the Downs.  With the addition of Pete, there was plenty of testosterone flowing and the pace was hot, so it was just as well that Jane is pregnant and needed to stop for a pee, otherwise I would have been knackered!

We turned right onto the South Downs Way before we reached the ridge and dropped down the hill to the Newmarket, taking the sharp uphill section in the middle in our stride and pretty much racing down the final steep hill to the by-pass.  Unfortunately this meant that we had to turn around and run back up the hill until we met Jane (after a second stop) & Nikki and then come down a second time.

Pausing half way up the other side (ostensibly for Jane’s third pee-stop, but probably more because we’re all starting to get old!), we were somehow persuaded by Cliff to do the plank.  More testosterone was apparent as some people showed off by holding only two contact points!

Then it was up to Newmarket Copse, out to the Falmer Road and back down the hill to the cars.

From last summer https://www.fosterruns.com/2009/08/five-go-to-falmer/ it appears that the run was only 7.25 miles and although some of us had an additional couple of hundred meters of hill-climbing in the middle, the average speed from our one hour 24 minute run was a heady 5.2mph.  At least it was an improvement on last week!

And then Pete ran home again.  Mad fool!

Having sat on my drive under a blanket of snow for a couple of weeks, it was probably expecting a little too much of my car to fire up properly this morning.  Which is a real shame because I was looking forward to driving it… and now the guys at the garage are probably practising sucking breath in through their teeth!

Kim kindly lent me her car and I set off into the first gorgeous sunny morning for ages: destination Falmer.  It felt mild, despite the layer of ice on the pond that suggested otherwise.

The stalwarts, Andy, Nikki, Cliff and myself, were joined by Neil who had finally bowed under pressure from Cliff to come out with us.  BIG mistake!

It was really hard work to start with.  I had expected the first hill to be waterlogged, but I was pleasantly surprised… it was still probably frozen and to make it more interesting, there were mini snow-drifts set at irregular intervals.  I managed to reach the top of the first rise with the Clifford vanguard but I was also very pleased to be able to stand and catch my breath until Neil caught up.

We ran out to the Newmarket Copse and then Cliff announced that he would rather like to have a closer look at a white blob  (half way up the photo below and one third in from the right) on the edge of Lewes in the distance.  As a result we ran up to the top of the ridge and headed East.

It was a great day to be out, with only the occasional snow-drift and the ice on the path down into Kingston to remind us that it wasn’t yet Spring.  When we got to the blob, it was (as Cliff had suspected), a rather lovely windmill in the making.

This section was Cliff’s treat to us… a path I’ve not been down before, with some stunning vistas.

We dropped down into Lewes and jostled up the sharp hill to the prison, before heading on up to Lewes Racecourse, where there were yet more views to be had… as well as a different view of the new windmill.

Poor Neil had already not been this far on a run for an age, so we had the luxury of stopping to catch our breath on more than one occasion.  The photos below show the others trying to emulate Superman at one of these breaks and… well… captions are welcome!

Our route then took us up to the top of Blackcap, before we started to descend back down the first path back to Falmer.  I got back to the cars again at 2 hours 18 minutes, followed closely by Nikki.  Andy limped in shortly afterwards, but it took Cliff another ten minutes to catch up… sign of advancing ears, probably… and Neil had very kindly hung back to keep him company.

Neil may have looked knackered, but he did good indeed to be able to cover 10.95 miles.

You’d have thought from the time taken and all the photos that I’ve posted that it would be a greater distance than that, but hey!  Not such a hot speed for me (4.76mph!), but a hugely enjoyable run nevertheless… or maybe that should read ‘as a result!’

On such a bright and sunny January the first, it was easy to get out and get running and I quickly found myself on the way to the Downs.  It wasn’t exactly an early morning run however… it was midday before I emerged, mainly because I was hoping the temperature might rise a little from its sub-zero start.

I ran out towards Oldlands Mill on a very muddy track, taking a left before I reached the mill to drop down into the north end of Ditchling.  This meant that I could run down the high street with its pretty shops and cottages, before taking the Beacon road & track.

Each of my runs seems to represent an ordeal to be overcome and I was happy that I was able to push on up the steep Beacon track with little problem.  I didn’t feel particularly on form however, as I remember trying to work out what was painful… I was happy that it was not my legs, nor my lungs.

It was a joy to be on the top of the Beacon on such a beautiful day and I took these pictures to share the view with you.

Deciding which way to go back was difficult as all ways were appealing and I chose to run along the top to Jack & Jill, where a glider slid gracefully past overhead, before I turned northward.  It was cold enough on the top that I had to put my second beanie hat back on and drag it down over my ears and the temperature didn’t exactly rise as I dropped out of the sun!

I descended the steeper of the two paths into Clayton and ran through the Eastern end of the village and north towards Halfway (on the map).  Here I stopped to read the path closure notice and it was as if my energy, till then finely balanced for the estimated return distance, suddenly started to evaporate.  My new route took me through Butcher’s Wood, inadvertently via someone’s woodland-like back garden… if you are the owner, please accept my apologies.

At the one-hour forty mark, having run through Hassocks and onto the path at the north of the village my energy-meter suddenly hit zero and I found myself walking.  I realised that the elusive but pervasive pain was from my lower back so I allowed myself to walk for about ten minutes until I got to the the bottom of the lane to Oldlands Mill, eating out my entire small emergency stock of Jelly Babies as I went.  Whilst I really hate having to walk on a run and also really beat myself up about being so weak-willed, I know that I must have been feeling pretty pained to have resorted to it.

After my ten minute walk I was well chilled (and I don’t mean laid-back!) and I forced myself to start running again when I reached the lane to the Mill and then took the muddy track towards home, pausing only for a minute or so when I painfully twisted my ankle.  Despite this I still managed to run all the way home.

I had covered 12.4 miles in two hours 18 minutes… a pretty slow 5.4mph… and I arrived home like the walking dead, but it was good to have a tough start to the year and I seemed to recover fairly quickly which is a good sign.

It really felt like a Sunday yesterday… but it has just dawned on me that it’s actually Sunday tomorrow and that I’ll have to get out and do it all again!  Now I feel tired!